Blood and Winter
Chapter IV
Raising his arm carefully, Jon winced at the stab of pain that came along with the action. A few hours had passed since the Northern army had retaken Deepwood Motte from the Ironborn and already, the men were hard at work.
The dead were being burned, the injured were being taken care of and prisoners were locked away.
There weren't many of the latter left.
Those that were in a good condition were getting to work rebuilding the defences of Deepwood Motte so that they could set out soon. They couldn't afford to move slowly in this campaign, that was one of the things Greatjon Umber had stressed. The Ironborn with their ships were able to move quickly and hit hard, it's why they had been so devastatingly effective. In a wide and vast land such as the North, with most of their army down south along with most of their skilled commanders. It made the defence of the North incredibly difficult and why the Ironborn had been so effective in conquering as much land as they had.
To defeat them, speed would be their greatest asset because if they didn't strike fast, the Ironborn could entrench themselves deeply in the North making it all but impossible to remove them without a proper army.
An army they didn't have.
"We should move south soon, leave the injured here with a few able men and have them defend Deepwood Motte." Owen Norrey suggested, and Jon frowned in thought. He appreciated that the man didn't just make decisions without checking with him, his superior officer as decreed by Robb. But at the same time, Jon wished he would because Jon had no clue how to lead men in battle.
Nor did he want to, the blood of those that died in Deepwood Motte weighed more than any sword ever could.
"Aye, it's a smart idea." The Greatjon agreed and Jon was thankful that the more experienced commander was taking control. "Should use the few ships the Ironborn left behind to ferry a few hundred men across and give aid to the Mormont's. Alysane Mormont is holding them off for now, but she won't be able to hold on for much longer."
Jon looked over the map of the North, it was a grim sight to see, though their taking of Deepwood Motte did make things look a little better. Even so, the vast majority of the Greyjoy fleet under the command of Victarion Greyjoy had cut through the Saltspear and down Fever River to take Moat Cailin in short order.
He had then left six thousand men in charge of defending the ruined keep and stopping any reinforcements from the south. Such as the four thousand men led by Lord Jason Mallister who had reportedly been seen passing the Twins three days ago.
However, Victarion with his remaining ten thousand men had since travelled back, taking Flint's Finger and Barrowtown. The last reports they had received on him said that he was currently besieging Goldgrass.
Then there were the three thousand men led by Aeron Greyjoy currently having taken the Stony Shores. They had since pushed in further east crossing the Rills and two thousand under Dagmer Cleftjaw were pushing further inwards heading towards Torrhen's Square. Aeron himself taking the remaining one thousand men and pushing north into the Wolfswood. It was unsure what their intent was, but Jon had been advised to move south and meet them.
"Hugo Wull should lead the men across to Bear Island?" It was posed more of a question than as an order and there were a few nods of agreement, seeing this helped fill Jon with a little more confidence. "Brandon Norrey will remain here in charge of the defence of Deepwood Motte. The rest of us will march south to meet Aeron Greyjoy in the field."
The gathered clan chiefs nodded their heads and gave mutterings of, "aye." Before heading out to prepare to march.
As they did, Jon sat down rubbing his temples in frustration. 'Why did you give me command, Robb? I don't have a clue what I'm doing.' He thought, Ghost raising his head making a little noise of confusion as it twisted its heads to one side.
"Ah, don't let it get to you, lad," Greatjon said, clasping one hand on Jon's shoulder. "It's to be excepted that you're unsure of what you're doing. You spent your time learning to swing a sword and kill men, not lead them."
"I know, it's just, why did Robb give me command?"
Greatjon snorted. "Bah, I have no clue. He's a smart lad, too smart for me to figure out what goes on in that mind of his. But he trusts you and that's a difficult thing to come by in this world. 'Sides, there's no one better to defend the North than a Stark. You'll get used to it in time, just gotta give it a little time."
"Don't think I can afford to wait," Jon muttered and the Greatjon let out a chortle.
"Aye, yer right about that."
-X-
"Halt!" Lord Mallister called, the army that had been following behind him doing as he ordered. Four thousand men of the Riverlands and five hundred men of the North, all under his command to beat back the Ironborn. Jason couldn't wait, he had a bone to pick with the Ironborn after they attempted to take his castle, Seagard in the Greyjoy Rebellion.
Despite losing the battle, the Ironborn had killed many of his men and taken many of the women as Salt Wives.
He'd avenge that loss here and now.
"Get the men into formations." He ordered to his commanders. Lord Vance quickly took command of two thousand infantrymen, forming them in the centre, Lord Darry splitting the one thousand strong cavalry contingent into two, five hundred on either flank. As for Lord Smallwood, he took command of the archers, placing them behind Lord Vance's infantry but in front of Lord Mallister's one thousand infantry reserves.
Jason's suspicions and instincts were proven correct when he saw nearly six thousand Ironborn meander across the field at a slow and steady pace. Even from here, he and his men could hear the jeering they made as they moved to meet them.
Much like he had expected, the Ironborn hadn't learned how to form proper formations nor did it seem that they had cavalry of any kind. It was more akin to a group of six thousand men marching towards them, like a group of bandits rather than an actual army. Still, despite being outnumbered, Jason didn't feel an ounce of fear.
Fierce fighters the Ironborn maybe, but in a land battle, they were easy to deal with for experienced commanders.
"Have Lord Smallwood, set the range." He said to one of his messengers and a few moments later, a single arrow cut through the air and landed a few hundred meters in front of Lord Vance's infantry.
There was a loud cheer from the Ironborn when they witnessed this and as they got closer, still never charging at them, Lord Mallister couldn't help but smile. They were only truly dangerous on the seas. On land, they were no different than common thugs with illusions of grandeur.
Eventually, the Ironborn reached where the arrow Lord Smallwood had shot, one Ironborn even going so far as to kick the arrow, breaking the wooden shaft. But Lord Mallister cared little for it, raising one hand into the air. The sounds of arrows slotting into place on a bow and the drawstrings being pulled back reaching his ears.
"Loose." He ordered, one echoed by Lord Smallwood and then hundreds of arrows filled the air. Each whistling as they curved high up into the sky before descending down on the large group of Ironborn.
Most wore simple leather armour with some chainmail, so it was a slaughter. The front rows of men dropped like flies, cries filling the air as arrows rained down upon them.
It seemed however that the Ironborn realised that this would be best the time to start running and they did so. Each of them released war cries as they charged towards the waiting Riverland soldiers.
Another two waves of arrows were fired before Lord Mallister signalled a halt.
"Signal for the two hundred men on the left to charge." A flag was raised into the air and two hundred men on Lord Vance's left flank charged forward with a cry clashing with the Ironborn forces.
However, Lord Mallister never gave the signal for others to charge. Instead, watched as the men of the Riverland fought valiantly against the hordes of Ironborn. They did well, lasting a good half an hour before their morale started to crumble, each of those fighting realising that they had not received any reinforcements. And just as Jason had expected the moment his soldier's morale started to crumble the Ironborn pounced on them.
Leaving their flank temporarily exposed.
"Signal for Lord Vance to charge with his full force in an echelon formation beginning from the left."
Another flag was raised and the remaining eighteen hundred men under Lord Vance's command charged forward with a cry. They clashed into and cut through the surprised Ironborn flanked, having wrapped round to finish off the two hundred strong Riverland soldiers.
So, when the remainder charged forwards, it caught them completely unawares. And the worst thing was, Lord Vance had used the echelon formation perfectly.
The staggered line crashed into the exposed flanks one after the other and with each man that clashed into an Ironborn, they fell back into their comrade behind them and the process followed. Against a standard army, pulling off an echelon formation with this level of success was all but impossible.
But against the Ironborn, it was terrifyingly effective.
Over an hour passed, the Ironborn and Riverland forces still fighting fiercely. Despite being outnumbered, the initial manoeuvre had dealt a devastating blow to Ironborn morale and had culled quite a few of their numbers. However, the Ironborn still outnumbered the enemy by a fair margin.
"Bring the archers back behind the reserves and signal a forward march." Slowly as the formation changed, Lord Mallister led his reserve forces in front of the archers, he then led the remainder of his army forwards. Flags raised high as to show themselves to the enemy.
As he had expected, the Ironborn noticed him coming and a few had already begun fleeing the battlefield. And as a few started leaving, more followed and it sent a ripple effect across the battlefield till the entire Ironborn army was in full retreat.
"Signal for the cavalry to hunt them down. Have Lord Vance gather his wounded and march behind us." With that, Lord Mallister witnessed Lord Darry and his cavalry start cutting through the retreating Ironborn, chasing them back to Moat Cailin. Some attempted to disappear into the marches near Fever River, but they were cut down before they got very far.
All the while Lord Mallister and his army continued to march into Moat Cailin.
-X-
Sat in his tent, Robb quietly read through the letter he had recently received from Lord Mallister. In it, it detailed how they had engaged the Ironborn host holding Moat Cailin which had foolishly left the ruined fortress to engage Lord Mallister and his forces east of the Fever River.
It had been a relatively long battle, over two hours of fighting that had resulted in a devastating loss for the Ironborn. Over two thousand were dead, a further thousand captured. Meaning that the once larger Ironborn army was brought down to less than half their number in a single engagement. The Riverland forces on the other hand suffered only a few hundred casualties, mostly amongst the infantry though there were a few cavalrymen amongst those lost.
Overall, it was a major victory in the northern campaign which helped elevate some of the worries he felt.
It was no secret that the northern defenders were vastly outnumbered, but the defenders were not going down without a fight. And it seemed the Greyjoy Invasion was being ground to a halt, the forces of the Ironborn stuck on the western shore with three large hosts in the north, centre and now at the south of the North. But despite that, Robb was worried about Victarion and the force of ten thousand under his command. That could tip the tide of the northern front against them once more. Especially considering that unlike the other Ironborn forces, this was comprised purely of fighting aged men.
Right now, the Ironborn would be forced to focus their attention on a single point and punch through. If Robb were the Ironborn he would push up North. It was the smartest decision to make.
The forces according to the reports were split apart, Jon having sent two thousand to join up with Rodrik Cassel at the start of the war to reinforce the centre. After retaking Deepwood Motte, Jon had further split his forces apart, five hundred remaining to defend the Glover castle, another five hundred heading to Bear Island and the remaining one thousand marching south.
It was a risky manoeuvre that could very well shift the tide of the war in the favour of the defenders if it worked. But it was a double-edged sword, it would be very easy for the Ironborn if led by a capable commander to use this as an opportunity to turn the invasion in their favour.
Robb trusted in his brother and in the Greatjon, but it was not about trust. This was about understanding their enemy and the Ironborn were nothing if not opportunists. All it would take was a capable commander to see this weakness and suddenly the war would twist against them. He just hoped that there weren't many capable commanders that noticed this weakness before Jon managed to score the critical victory to make this pay off.
Placing the letter down, Robb rubbed his brow tiredly, looking towards Grey Wind who was resting peacefully. Well, he wasn't sleeping, Robb couldn't tell you how he knew that, but he just did.
Ever since that day at Oxcross, when he had found himself in the body of Grey Wind the instinctive connection and bond he shared with his Direwolf seemed to have grown stronger. It was like at times, he was capable of communicating with him without ever having to speak. It was like they shared one mind.
And when he slept, Robb sometimes found himself wandering the camps late at night, hunting animals and feasting on their bodies like he was a ravenous wolf. He had never put much stock in Old Nan's stories, though with the Old Gods speaking to him and now his connection to his Direwolf, Robb was thinking that he should probably take another look at those stories.
From what he was experiencing, it was almost as if he was a Skingchanger.
It had terrified him at first, still did but Robb was starting to see the uses in it. He'd at first, denied the ability, almost beginning to distance himself from Grey Wind, but as of recently, he had started to notice the uses such an ability could have.
A few nights ago, Robb had rested his weary body after a day of training with members of his personal guard only to find himself in the body of Grey Wind. He hadn't been in control, never had been besides that single instance at Oxcross. But, he had suddenly found that Grey Wind had wandered up close to the walls of Sarsfield.
And as Grey Wind continued to stalk the walls, as if hearing Robb's instructions, Robb was able to see so much more than he had before. He had found what he was looking for in the two weeklong siege.
Before he had believed that the only way in would be through force, but Robb had decided against that. The House Sarsfield had a total of seven hundred men defending the castle and with his host of three thousand men, Robb wouldn't be able to take it without heavy losses. Even this little route would be a dangerous endeavour that would cost the lives of many men.
But it was then, that Robb had noticed the benefits of such an ability.
Every night since then he had allowed his mind to flow into Grey Winds and each time he felt his power and influence over Grey Wind when he entered the Direwolf's body grow. There was still the fear he felt in using such a power, this was magic, sorcery, an unnatural phenomenon.
However, as a military commander, he was more than capable of seeing the uses such an ability had. Whether he feared it or not, Robb would use every advantage he had to gain victory, if that meant using sorcery and magic, then so be it.
"Your grace!" His squire, Olyvar Frey burst into his tent with heavy breath and flush of exertion of his face. "There's a large host heading our way."
"How many men?" Despite his grim face, Robb couldn't help but feel a momentary bout of excitement fill him. It seemed that finally some of the Lords in the south of the Westerlands had pooled their resources and men in an attempt to liberate their kingdom from the invaders.
It was not unsurprising really.
Already the Golden Tooth, Hornvale and Ashemark had fallen, their riches taken and used to fuel his ever-expanding war machine. At the same time, he had Lord Karstark raid along the coastline and take the goldmine of Castamere. All the while Lady Mormont and Lord Glover and Bolton took the mines of Pendric Hills, Tarbeck and Nunn's Deep, the latter two having moved onto besiege the Crag.
It made sense for them to try and muster a force to halt him before he became too powerful. The riches of the Westerlands would only open more opportunities for Robb in the future and they wanted to stop him before he got the chance to use their riches for his own gain.
"Five thousand, your grace," Olyvar answered, a panicked look in his eyes. "They're from the Reach saw the sigil of House Tyrell amongst them. Have they allied with the Lannisters?
Now that was a question.
News of Renly's death had reached him soon after he set out to besiege Sarsfield and that was one of the main concerns he had. If the Tyrell's pledged their support to Joffrey and the Lannisters, the war would be all but impossible. He'd have to surrender both his campaign in the Westerlands and abandon the Riverlands and secure the North in preparation to defend against the combined armies of the Tyrells and Lannisters.
'Still, if they have come to stop us, coming with only five thousand?' He was almost insulted. "Prepare half our men to charge in case they are hostile." This order was spoken to both Dacey and Smalljon who had arrived soon after Olyvar, the young squire in question had already prepared his cloak and sword.
The cloak itself was black in colour and made from a number of different animals. It was made using ancient Northern tanning techniques and was far tougher than leather armour made anywhere else in the south.
Wrapping it around his shoulder, he clasped it in place before taking his sword, a simple, well-forged broadsword he had taken from one of the Lannisters soldiers he killed in the Battle of the Camps. The gaudy red and gold handle had been replaced with a much simply dark leather wrap with the hilt actually being made from Weirwood.
"I wouldn't worry about that, your grace." Lord Marq Piper said as he too entered the tent. "They've stopped and riders have already entered the camp wishing to peak with you. Your lady mother is amongst them."
"Truly?" He asked and Marq nodded his head. "That damn woman, can't she send me a raven informing me of this. Doesn't she know this is a war?" Robb cursed as he stormed past them and out into the open air.
There he watched Catleyn Stark along with four others he didn't recognise moved towards him on horseback.
"Bring them inside when they arrive." He ordered, entering back into the tent, and sitting down in the tent, waving off Olyvar who asked if he should take away his sword. Right now, he didn't know if the men following his mother were hostile or not, they could very well be using this opportunity to let him drop his guard before killing them. He'd rather not be without his blade if that happened.
Instead, he indicated for Olyvar to bring him his crown who did so. It was an uncomfortable thing formed of a bronze forged into an open circlet inscribed with Runes of the First Men and topped with nine black iron spikes in the shapes of long swords.
It wasn't comfortable at all and Robb had wanted it that way. It reminded him that being King wasn't easy just like wearing the crown wasn't easy.
For a few moments, he waited in silence, silently watching as men of his personal guard started to file into the tent. Only eleven members in all and all had fought and bled by his side.
There was Lucas Blackwood, the second son of Lord Tytos Blackwood.
Robin Flint, eldest son of Lady Lyessa Flint.
Ser Perwyn Frey, fifteenth son of Walder Frey and one of the few decent men amongst the Frey family.
Daryn Hornwood, son of Lord Harys Hornwood.
Eddard Karstark and his recently joined brother, Harrion Karstark, sons of Lord Rickard Karstark.
Ser Donnel Locke of House Locke.
Patrek Mallister, eldest son of Lord Jason Mallister.
Ser Wendel Manderly, second son of Lord Wyman Manderly.
Dacey Mormont, the eldest daughter, and heir of Lady Maege Mormont.
Smalljon Umber, son, and heir of Lord Greatjon Umber.
And last, but not least his squire, Olyvar Frey.
It was a bunch of mostly young men and women like himself, but most of them had killed hundreds and seen thousands die.
"Your grace," the flap to the tent opened and in stepped Lord Marq Piper, one of the sub-commanders of his army here. He was a loyal man, especially when Robb had shown mercy to his father, Clement Piper and allowed him to live despite his treasonous actions. "May I introduce, Lady Catelyn Stark and her four companions, Ser Robar Royce, Ser Brienne of Tarth, Ser Emmon Coy and Ser Garlan Tyrell."
"I am glad to see you safe, mother." Despite his irritation at arriving at his camp with an army at her back and no prior warning, Robb was pleased to see her safe and unharmed. "And welcome to all of you, please rise."
Each of the four knights that had bowed as a sign of respect rose, Garlan taking note of the discomfort the Young Wolf showed when he asked them to rise.
"Not that I am pleased to see you alive, I am wary of the large army you seem to have brought with you. A prior warning would have been…useful?" This is where Garlan stepped forth, the momentary action causing the members of Robb's personal guard to rest their hands on the handles of their weapons in preparation.
There was a sudden tense feeling in the air, but Robb rose one hand and it dispelled as his guards relaxed their bodies, but never once removed their hands from their weapons.
"Ser Garlan, correct?"
The man in question smiled easily. "Yes, your grace. Forgive me for the suddenness then, but I believe that you in the North like to get straight to business, correct?"
"Aye, we do. Winter isn't forgiving and doesn't allow for the word games that you lot south of the Neck seem to enjoy playing." Robb agreed, though his eyes widening in momentary shock when Garlan drew his blade and dropped to one knee, presenting the blade to Robb in both hands.
"I, Ser Garlan, son of Lord Mace Tyrell, Lord Paramount of the Manders and Warden of the south, do hereby pledge the loyalty of me and the armies of the Reach to the new King, Robb Stark."
Again, there was a momentary tension in the air, this time it was dispelled by Smalljon who laughed uproariously. The sword he had drawn much like the rest of Robb's guard when they witness Garlan unsheathed his, was propped on the ground as he used it to balance himself.
"Dacey, get Smalljon out of here," Robb ordered, never taking his eyes off the still kneeling Garlan. He didn't need to look to know she was doing as he had said, he could hear her quite easily shoving the bigger man out of the tent who still continued to laugh all the way. "You will have to forgive Smalljon, he's a good man, but he doesn't know how to keep his thoughts to himself."
"I understand, your grace," Garlan muttered, keeping his sword outstretched and Robb rose from his seat.
Taking the blade, Robb then pointed it at Garlan who never let an ounce of fear show on his face.
"Robb?!" Catelyn exclaimed in shock, unsure of what her son was doing, and she wasn't the only one.
"Tell me, Ser Garlan. How am I to trust your word?"
"Your grace? I'm afraid I don't understand?" Garlan questioned.
"The Reach pledged their loyalty to King Renly and so soon after his death, you come to me? Why? Is it revenge? Power?" He demanded and Garlan frowned slightly.
"I believe there has been a mistake, your grace. Yes, we did support King Renly, but it was a choice born with too little information. We quickly cut our support to Renly the next day, we wished to ensure the side we choose was the correct one. There is no denying that Renly was a good man and would have made a good King, but he did not have a claim to the Iron Throne."
"Nor do I, nor do I have a desire to claim it if that is your plan."
Garlan bowed his head. "I know, the honour of the Starks is well-known, it is also well-known that you did not crown yourself King. A man who inspires such loyalty and love in his bannermen that they proclaim him their King, that is a man worthy to follow. You fight for a just cause, and the best Kings, are those who do not want to be Kings." Garlan stated firmly, looking up directly into Robb's eyes as if daring him to refute what he just said.
Eventually, after staring into Garlan's eyes to gain a measure of the man, Robb flipped the sword round and presented the handle to Garlan. "Welcome, Ser Garlan." As much as he did not want to be King of yet another kingdom, he also knew that he needed those soldiers.
The war despite being in his favour so far could quite easily turn depending on certain factors. The Tyrell's were one such factor Robb had always been wary of. They fielded the largest army of over eighty thousand men and unlike every other kingdom, had the wealth and food to sustain that large army.
Kingdoms like the Westerlands and the Riverlands, despite being the former being the wealthiest kingdom and the latter being the largest in terms of trade and commerce, neither could field the full might of their army.
Even the North, despite having the largest of the seven kingdoms in Westeros had many severe limitations that hampered their military might. First was the fact their houses and soldiers were spread over vast swaths of lands, so it took great deals of time to raise a large host. Secondly and thirdly, they did not have the food or the coin necessary to feed and pay the full might of their army without going bankrupt in a matter of weeks.
Robb had known this and so, raised only twenty thousand men, the largest force he could raise on short notice and marched south. The remaining near thirty thousand scattered across the land were being marched south to replace the losses they suffered. It was a common strategy shared by many of the other kingdoms.
But only the Reach did not have to use it due to the sheer amount of food they produced.
Such an army could very well turn the war against him, and he couldn't afford to let that happen. "I would be honoured to have you and the men of the Reach by my side in this war." Garlan bowed his head once more, stepping back in line with the other four warriors.
-X-
Margaery Tyrell could not deny that the young King was handsome. Strong, with a stocky build, dark red hair, and bright blue eyes. Clad in black leather and worn armour, he looked every inch the warrior King he was proclaimed to be. And the Direwolf at his side was truly a terrifyingly magnificent beast, the sheer size of the beast made her tense in fear.
But it never attacked her, never attacked anyone in the camp, it was almost like an overgrown house pet. Though from the stories she'd heard about it when in battle, the beast was a savage creature.
Yet, Margaery found it to be a magnificent beast, one that reflected well upon its master. Her opinion on Robb Stark was certainly varied. Handsome, strong-willed, and quite a cunning mind, but with all the honour and guile of a Stark. He also seemed to be quite lacking in politics, in his inexperience accepting her brother's explanation that she was trained in healing.
Not a complete lie, the moment her grandmother had started to favour the Stark King over the others in this war, Margaery had known that she would be tasked with seducing him. That's how highborn women were used, as weapons to further the standing of their houses through marriage.
The one problem was that war, especially an army camp was no place for a highborn lady. Not unless she had a specific reason to be there and where else should a healer be than at an army camp to tend to the wounded.
So, she had started learning the basics of healing.
As was expected, King Robb had accepted her as one of his personal physicians. She wasn't the only one he had, but due to her status as a highborn lady and one from House Tyrell, it was only proper that she worked closely with the King. Though Margaery did also plan to help some of the many other soldiers in Robb's army, it would help endear her to them and further to the King as well.
He was attracted to her, that much she knew. As soon as she entered the room, every man there had looked at her the same way the King had, with desire. It was a look she was used to getting, but she was disappointed when watching as the Young Wolf undressed her with his eyes. The low-cut, tight-fitting dress drew attention to all of her assets, just as it was meant to, but she had honestly expected more self-control from a Stark.
Then, he had torn his gaze away from her, a flash of guilt in his eyes as he did.
Margaery didn't know why. Did he feel guilty to have so blatantly looked at her with desire? Or was there someone else? Some unknown lover that no one knew of. Whatever the reasoning behind it, Margaery found herself curious.
It was the first time someone had looked at her with desire and then felt guilty about it.
Catelyn Stark knew exactly why the Tyrell girl was here, it was plainly obvious that she was meant to seduce her son. On the way up from Highgarden, they had crossed over the Gold Road east of Silverhill and marched north, coming onto the River Road. All along the journey, Margaery had been a kind, sweet girl always curious about the North and the Riverlands.
But she had always directed her line of questions onto her son.
She had been a dutiful listener, always attentive and curious. Catelyn was almost convinced that she was genuine, but Catelyn had soon figured out the true aim of Margaery's questions. Even so, despite knowing this, Catelyn found it hard to dislike the girl.
She was incredibly charming.
"The Tyrells, they intend to seduce you." Catelyn bluntly told her son who just sighed.
"I thought as much. Are you unharmed?"
"I am fine, Robb. Thanks to Ser Brienne, Robar and Emmon I was able to escape Storms End just fine and they ensured my safety on the way here as well. I am glad that you have accepted them into your personal guard, they will serve you well."
Robb nodded his head.
"And Renly?" He asked, taking note of how both his mother and Brienne tensed up. "How did he die?"
"I am not sure. When I entered, I saw a shadowy mist in the shape of a man cut him down." Catelyn explained and Robb remained silent, how was one supposed to respond to that information?
"It was Stannis. I was there when it happened, the thing that cut down Renly was in the shape of Stannis." Brienne spoke up, ignoring the look sent her way by Catelyn and Robb glanced at her. His eyes searched her own for any sign of deceit and what he found seemed to have told him she believed every word she said.
'Is it possible? Is there such a thing in this world?' As he thought upon this, his gaze shifted towards Grey Wind.
"Robb, while I do not believe that it truly was Stannis in the shape of shadow, I do believe Stannis gave the order. What Brienne describes is, is impossible?" Catelyn argued, unwilling to believe in the idea that magic was real. It was more than likely that it was just a hallucination caused by stress.
"Mother, I've seen a lot of things in this war. I've seen men walk around with their guts in their hands, I've killed hundreds and ordered the deaths of thousands more. There are many strange things in this world. Ser Brienne, do you swear by the Old Gods and the new that what you saw is true?" Robb questioned.
Brienne nodded her head firmly. "It is your grace. I saw the shadow take the shape of Stannis and kill him. I know that it sounds unbelievable, but what I saw is the truth."
"Then I declare, Stannis Baratheon a Kinslayer and that this dishonour will follow him to his grave." Robb declared.
Later, Catelyn moved through the much larger camp, dutifully followed Brienne. The large woman still warily eyed every man they came across as if expecting an attack. It was unnecessary, but Catelyn admired Brienne's caution.
"I want you to remain here with my son." Catelyn eventually said as she neared her horse. A large detachment of men from the North also preparing to ride with her as guards.
"My lady, I swore myself to you. To serve by your side, to fight and die for you."
"I know, but I ask that you stay here and protect my son. I am marching North to Winterfell. Every day the Ironborn are being beaten back, I will be safe there. My son is not, the Tyrell's have their own ambitions and my son, many enemies. It would make me feel much more secure if you were to remain here and join my son's personal guard. Protect and serve him as you would me, please."
Brienne remained silent; her jaw set as she frowned.
After moments of consideration, the party marching North with Catelyn nearly finished.
"If that is your wish, my lady," Brienne responded, raising her head to look into Catelyn's eyes. "Then I shall protect your son with my life."
-X-
"Push forward!" Rodrik ordered swinging his blade down and killing an Ironborn. Around him, men of the North and Iron Islands clashed in a bloody battle that had been waging on for hours.
Rodrik Cassel had been stationed at Winterfell, ensuring the seat of House Stark would stand strong as the pillar of the North. If it fell, morale amongst the Northern soldiers fighting against the Ironborn would plummet. That was when he received news of a host of one thousand men marching on Torrhen's Square.
The seat of House Tallhart had only a few men manning the castle walls, against a thousand Ironborn they would be killed quite easily and with it, the Ironborn would take Torrhen's Square. If they managed that they would have a staging ground upon which to launch a siege upon Winterfell.
In order to ensure that such a situation did not happen Rodrik had left a thousand men in charge of the defences at Winterfell while taking his remaining three thousand men west to reinforce Torrhen's Square.
When they arrived, the castle was already under siege. The garrison of Torrhen's Square numbering less than a hundred fought bravely but they were quite easily getting overwhelmed.
Without time to organise into proper formations, Rodrik gave the order to charge.
His three thousand men clashed with the Ironborn invaders. Hundreds had already got onto the wall with the vast majority remaining outside. They were dealt with quite easily in the opening stages of the conflict, though there were still a few pockets here and there around Torrhen's Square still fighting.
But then Rodrik was faced with actually having to take Torrhen's Square from the Ironborn who had since managed to kill the remaining garrisons forces and secure the walls. It was a bloody conflict, but they managed to gain a few footholds and were starting to push the Ironborn back.
Raising his shield, he blocked the axe that came down to cut him in half and thrust his sword through his attacker's chest. Behind him, one of the berserkers swung his battle-axe around in a big sweep that knocked three men off the walls, each with deep cuts along their chests.
He saw one Ironborn swing his two axes around with great speed, one pulling down the shield of a Northman and the other piercing straight through the man's unprotected face.
However, that was as far as he got before three Northmen came from around him and stabbed their blades through his chest.
It was a bloody sight and as Rodrik came to a halt, he watched as the Ironborn started to retreat at the sound of the horn blasting. Taking a deep breath, Rodrik looked round, his eyes looking upon the sight of hundreds of corpses littering the walls and the ground below, both in and outside the castle walls.
The battle had been hard-fought, but they had won.
"How many men did we lose?" Rodrik wondered, carefully stepping over the bodies of the dead men.
"Dunno, but I'd wager we've probably lost nearly a thousand and probably lose another hundred or so due to injuries." Benfred Tallhart muttered, the young lad looking to have aged ten years after the hard-fought battle. His blonde hair was caked in blood and mud and a deep cut was upon his left cheek.
"Bring the men inside, we'll camp here for now. Have riders sent to Winterfell requesting aid." What Benfred said was true, this battle had been costly on both sides and despite outnumbering the enemy, the Ironborn had fought with everything they had and more. Rodrik needed to reduce the additional casualties amongst the injured soldiers as soon as possible. The land battle outside the walls of Torrhen's Square had been relatively equal with their superior numbers giving them the advantage. However, retaking the walls from the Ironborn had been the most difficult and bloodiest part of the siege.
How they had won yet the war was far from over.
If the Ironborn were to win, they would need to take Winterfell and to do that they would need Torrhen's Square. Rodrik would ensure that they paid for such an action with blood.
-X-
Things had not been going well for the Old Lion. As soon as he had set out with his force of near forty thousand men he had been confident. Despite being one of the wealthiest kingdoms in Westeros, the Riverlands military power was one of the weakest. However, they had very strong allies in the North and with the riches of the Riverland at their disposal, Tywin knew that he would have a great deal of trouble in facing the Northern army.
Especially when one considers that the Riverlands, despite having a weak military had a number of skilled commanders, just like the North did. Compare that to his own commanders, Tywin knew he was at a disadvantage in that aspect.
So, he had marched into the Riverlands, intent on subjugating the kingdom before the North had a chance to link up with them. However, his plans were foiled by the two biggest threats in the Riverlands, Lord Tytos Blackwood a master of defensive warfare and Lord Jason Mallister, arguably one of the few truly great military commanders in Westeros.
They despite having only two thousand men in total, managed to keep his son occupied long enough for the Northern army to arrive at the Twins. Then came the biggest threat in the war, the Young Wolf.
The boy had outsmarted and outmanoeuvred him at every turn. His son captured and the host destroyed, Tywin had attempted to halt the boy's progress by settling himself at Harrenhall, only for that plan to backfire. While most of the boy's forces were stationed along the Ford, ensuring that no matter where Tywin attacked, he'd be soon surrounded and killed unless he went south and that meant sacrificing the advantageous position he had here at Harrenhall.
All the while the boy marched west, wiping out the host Tywin had hoped would twist the tide of the war back in his favour before launching an invasion into the Westerlands. Already having conquered the castles of Golden Tooth, Ashemark and Hornvale while laying siege to Sarsfield and the Crag.
At the same time, Lord Mallister had marched retaking the Riverlands and uniting them under the new King in the North and Trident.
The Greyjoy Invasion had been something Tywin had once again, hoped would at least weaken the unstoppable force that was Robb Stark, only for it to slow the boy down only temporarily. Somehow there had been enough forces left in the North to hold off the Ironborn and now Jason Mallister was marching to give aid.
Thinks we're not looking good.
And what made it worse was the fact that Robb was not the only participant in this war that were enemies of House Lannister. That threat, Stannis Baratheon was now marching on Kings Landing with a force of thirty thousand strong.
This put Tywin in a very difficult situation, that was something he and all the lords gathered in the war room at Harrenhall knew. Each of them looked to Tywin Lannister for orders as a young servant boy moved around refilling the empty cups on the table.
'If I march south, the Stark boy will be able to redeploy his troops putting us at a greater disadvantage. But if I do not, then Kings Landing will surely fall.' This was the crux of the matter; Tywin was stuck deciding to either abandon or potentially lose the war against the Young Wolf. Or lose Kings Landing and everything he had worked so hard for to Stannis.
At the end of the day, despite his hesitation, Tywin could only make one choice.
The legacy of House Lannister was worth more than anything.
-X-
'So, you've been driven to this point of desperation. Looks like the King was right.' Brynden thought with a grim smile on his face, months of waiting had finally bore fruit and now they could finally start bringing this war to its final stages.
"Have the centre collapse in." He ordered and the battlefield before him shifted. The centre of the one-thousand-man front line slowly started shifting backwards giving ground to the one thousand Lannister detachment force that had struck them nought an hour ago. It was a small force and Brynden had been wary to commit more than an equal number to the engagement in case it turned out to be a trap.
However, it seemed the additional five thousand men he had in reserve were not necessary.
As his centre moved back, the flanks remained firm and it started to take the shape almost similar to a bow. The enemy infantry also pushed in further as a result, funnelling themselves into the perfect position for Brynden's archers to aim upon.
"Loose!" Hundreds of arrows fell down upon the exposed Lannister forces and no doubt a few dozen of his own. But to Brynden they were acceptable losses in the grand scheme of things.
It took another four volleys before the Lannister force was routed, soldiers rushing out and being cut down on the way as they did. By the end of it, the once one thousand strong army had been reduced to barely three hundred men.
"Send riders to Lord Bracken and Blackwood, tell them to move towards Harrenhall." With that, Brynden started giving out additional orders to have his reserve force of five thousand men to move out.
This attack had been nothing more than a feint, a diversion to keep him occupied while the Old Lion made his move. No doubt south, to aid Kings Landing from the impending siege to come. And with it, Robb's plan would finally reach its ending cycle.
-X-
Laughing, Edmure rose his sword into the air. "Don't let them escape!" He cried, urging his horse forward as he and his army rushed forth after the Mountain and his men.
They had come in the early hours of the morning and what had followed was a brutal close combat engagement that had continued on for hours. Despite being outnumbered five to one, the mere presence of the Mountain had made the battle far more equal than it should have.
However, the battle had reached its climax.
A final push from the centre by the men had managed to split the one thousand strong Lannister force in two and from there, the left army had been made short work of, quickly retreating after barely an hour of fighting. Then the men there had rushed to engage the remaining Lannister force that still fought fiercely by the side of the Mountain.
The man's large frame and black armour made him stand out quite easily. Yet, no man ever managed to get close. Those that did were cut down with powerful and fast swings that bisected men, cutting through armour due to the sheer force the Mountain exerted in his swings.
It was a terrifying display to behold, but the men under Edmure's command didn't falter and continued to push forth. While the Mountain continued to stand strong, the same could not be said for his men.
Every passing moment another Lannister soldier would be killed and more and more soon joined him.
The tide of battle turned when a lucky strike from a spearman that managed to sneak through the gaps in the Mountains plate armour and pierce into his shoulder. The man did nothing but grunt and swing his greatsword with a single arm and cut through an entire line of six spearmen in one swing.
Even so, the very sight of the Mountain being injured broke the already weakened morale of the Lannister soldiers and they quickly turned tail and ran.
Edmure wasn't about to let this opportunity escape. The Mountain was before him and if he could capture the man, he would be able to earn a great deal of glory on this battlefield. So, as the small force of a hundred Lannister soldiers rushed back across the Tumbler's Fall, Edmure and his army of just under four thousand men gave chase. They had incurred heavy losses in the battle, but Edmure knew that the capture of the Mountain would be incredibly important and more than make up for the over one thousand losses he had taken.
As he neared the Lannister forces, his eyes set on the large figure of Ser Gregor Clegane, he ignored the rush of the water on the river. It was deep, but not too deep and his horse continued to move forwards. However, he was slowed down, his infantrymen managing to overtake him and close on the Lannister forces killing a few more.
But the vast majority of the enemy managed to cross the river in time.
That was when a horn sounded and Edmure froze, watching in horror as a large host numbering in the thousands came into view. The lines of men formed up with archers taking aim.
"No." He whispered in shock before the arrows fired fell upon them.
He quickly jumped off his horse and into the river, closing his eyes and praying. Luckily, he managed to escape alive and broke the water's surface. There were a number of dead bodies littered with arrows floating, others clutching arrows sticking from their chests, while others stood with their shields raised.
Another volley rained down upon them soon after and Edmure grunted, falling back into the water with a splash as an arrow struck his right chest.
Another volley followed soon after.
And then another.
And another.
All the while the Lannister infantry closed in on them.
It was when he saw the front ranks of the Lannister army charged into the Tumbler's Fall that Edmure recovered his wits enough to give the order to retreat. By that point, many had already turned tail and fled, but for many, it was too late.
Edmure was one of the lucky few who managed to make it onto the other bank in time and took one glance at the slaughter taking place in the river. Nearly the entirety of his force was still there, only a few hundred having made it back to the safety of the bank. The rest were engaged in brutal combat once more, but this time they were the ones being slaughtered.
That's when he heard the sound of galloping and looked to the north to see what must have been the entirety of the Lannister cavalry.
With wide eyes, Edmure ran as fast as he could away from the battlefield, just hoping and praying that he would survive. It was hard for him to comprehend just how badly things had turned so soon.
-X-
Two weeks, that's how long it took for him to take Sarsfield. The defenders had fought valiantly and even with spotting a number of weaknesses to exploit, eventually though, the sheer difference in numbers gave Robb the advantage. Even so, it had not been easy.
Leaning his neck to one side, he ignored the sweet smell of Margaery Tyrell that filled his nose as she wiped away the blood from a shallow cut with a wet cloth. He had received a number of worried looks from his personal guards and the noblemen at his camp when the siege had been won. Many believed the young King would die.
He hadn't and wasn't going to, it was nothing more than a shallow cut, no deeper than a paper cut.
Though Robb had expected to receive far worse wounds, the fact that while not as bad as some of his previous ones, the vital area in which the strike was located was a cause for concern for him and many others. Nonetheless, Robb put it out of his mind and instead focused on other matters, mainly ignoring the soft brushes of Margaery's hand against his skin.
When he had agreed to take on Margaery Tyrell as one of his physicians, he had done so knowing full well she intended to seduce him. But he had accepted because she was a highborn Lady and because he believed that due to knowing her intentions, he could resist quite easily.
However, that was proving to be a far more difficult task.
She was beautiful, perhaps one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. And despite being sixteen like himself, Margaery had a very well-developed figure something which her dresses and gowns never failed to hide but instead drew attention to it. He was just thankful that when serving as his physician in simple matters like this that she instead wore more, conservative clothing.
Even so, it did little to hide her natural beauty.
'Gods spare me.' He muttered, Grey Wind looking to him, the connection the two shared further strengthened by his recent delving into the Direwolf's mind allowing the beast to sense Robb's distress. Upon seeing that was nothing wrong Grey Wind huffed and lowered himself back down onto his paws, no doubt going to sleep.
Thankfully to Robb, someone up above seemingly took pity on him as the door opened and in stepped Lord Piper clutching a letter in his hand. He paused a moment, taking note of the discomfort on the Young Wolf's face and stifled a smile unsuccessfully.
"Your grace, my lady." He greeted the two, amusement radiating from the Lord and Robb shot the man an irate look. "A letter has arrived, from Ser Brynden." He moved forwards, handing the letter to Robb who took it with one hand, removing Margaery's hand from his face with his other.
Opening the letter, Robb read the contents a number of emotions flickered across his face, going from triumphant, to confusion, to irritation and then finally, to anger.
"Have my personal guard prepare themselves to move out at first light. You will remain here while I return to Riverrun, I want you to redistribute the soldiers of the Reach. The Crag is still holding out and I want it secured by the time I return." Lord Marq Piper bowed and then left the room.
"Good news, your grace?" Margaery asked, once again coming forwards to tend to a few of his other minor wounds. The wound on his neck had been cleaned thoroughly, but she needed to change the bandages around his side where a sword had cut into his waist. It was deeper than the wound on his neck but far less severe and worrying.
"Aye, the war will soon be coming to an end." Margaery paused from where she had just removed the slightly bloody bandage. The was not a pretty sight and she hadn't expected to ever have to do something like this, but it was proving to be the only way to actually get close to the Young Wolf.
However, it was not due to the wound that she paused.
"Truly? So soon?"
Robb nodded his head, Margaery once again getting back to work in replacing the bandages with a new one. "Well, there's still a few more battles to come, but if things go to plan, the war should end in a few months' time."
"Then you will have won. What do you plan to do after that?"
"Find my father and sisters." It was a quick answer, one that Margaery had expected.
"Then you can be sure that House Tyrell will do their best to help you. My father and brother, Willas are already searching the Reach as we speak for any sign of your father and sisters." Margaery dutifully informed.
"I shall have to thank them for that," Robb muttered. "Have you received word on when the Reach army will be arriving?"
"No, your grace. Lord Randall Tarly has been extremely careful in ensuring the main army has not been seen. But I promise you that they will be here to aid you, your grace." Robb chuckled.
"I do not doubt your words, my lady. If you say they are coming then I am sure they are."
"Margaery." Robb looked at her questioningly. "Please call me Margaery, your grace."
"I hardly believe that would be proper, my lady."
So, another chapter done and with it, the Tyrells and the Reach have allied with Robb who has since taken Sarsfield and the the invasion of the Westerlands expands ever further. Margaery of course, has set her sights on the Young Wolf and Garlan has joined his personal guard alongside Brienne, Emmon Coy and Robar Royce. In the North Jon is marching south in a risky manoeuvre that could either win the war or lose it for them. Mormont Keep is about to receive reinforcements and Rodrik Cassel secured Torrhen's Square after a costly battle.
And down in the south, Stannis moves on Kings Landing forcing Tywin Lannister to abandon his advantageous position in the Riverlands. Brynden, Tytos and Jonos move to besiege Harrenhall from the small garrison that remains there and Edmure allows his thirst for glory to result in a large slaughter.
Hope you enjoyed and if you did, please let me know what you think.
Now, once again here's the composition of the army, I'll include one at the end of each chapter as to avoid any confusion. It'll be much shorter than last chapters as it's just looking at the differences since last chapter rather than from start to present time in the story. Also, this will be looking at the armies at the end of this chapter so you know what the army size is leading to the next chapter.
Robb's Army (Total – 38,500 men).
- Sarsfield Army (King Robb Stark) – 3,000 men + 5,000 reinforcements.
- Crag Army (Lady Maege Mormont, Lord Roose Bolton) – 3,500 men.
- Coastal Raids (Lord Karstark) – 500 men.
- Darry Army (Lord Tytos Blackwood) – 4,000 men.
- Lychester Army (Lord Jonos Bracken) – 6,000 men.
- Acorn's Hall Army (Ser Brynden "Blackfish" Tully) – 6,000 men.
- Stony Septs Army (Lord Edmure Tully) – 5,000 men (Formerly).
- Moat Cailin Army (Lord Jason Mallister) – 4,500 men.
- Winterfell Army (Lord Torren Liddle) – 1,000 men.
- Torrhen's Square Army (Ser Rodrik Cassel) – 2,000 men.
- Wolfswood Army (Lord Jon Stark) – 500 men.
- Deepwood Motte Army (Lord Brandon Norrey) – 500 men.
- Mormont Keep (Alysane Mormont/Lord Hugo Wull) – 1,500 men/500 men.
Tywin's Army (Total – 17,000 men).
- Harrenhall Garrison (N/A) – 500 men + 700 reinforcements from remnants of the next three armies.
- Darry Army (N/A) – 1,000 men.
- Lychester Army (N/A) – 1,000 men.
- Acorn's Hall (N/A) – 1,000 men.
- Stony Septs Army (Ser Gregor Clegane) – 1,000 men.
- Main Army (Lord Tywin Lannister) – 15,500 men + 300 men formed from remnants of the Mountains attack force.
Stannis' Army (Total – 30,000 men.
- Kings Landing Army (King Stannis Baratheon) – 20,000 men.
- Stormlands Army (N/A) – 10,000 men.
Balon's Army (Total 16,500 men).
- Moat Cailin Army (N/A) – 3,000 men.
- Goldgrass Army (Victarion Greyjoy) – 10,000 men.
- Mormonts Keep Army (Asha Greyjoy) – 2,000 men.
- Torrhen's Square Army (Dagmer Cleftjaw) – 500 men.
- Stony Shores Army (Aeron Greyjoy) – 1,000 men.
Now for questions:
Stargaryen: Sort of, he had the Mountain Clansmen there incase they betrayed him. The visions weren't clear as to when, how, who or why the Greyjoy's betrayed him so he trusted in Theon and that trust was betrayed. As a result, the Mountain clans were there in hopes to hold the Ironborn long enough for Robb to win the war and march North to free the North, he naively hoping that he could win the war within that timeframe.
However, as you'll be seeing, war is more difficult and complicated than that. The war in the North is nowhere near finished yet and it's only just entered its beginning stages.
Blackstriker94: Sort of, the Wildlings will be entering the picture soon, but right no things are focused on Robb's war in the south and Jon's defence of the North. And your idea on that would be interesting and as much as I love Ygritte's character, Jon's pairing has been decided and it's not Daenerys.
miguelgiuliano. co: Yes it would, but I'm not going to be spoiling the pairings just yet. Though I will tell you that Dorne will be having a big role to play in the later stages of the War of the Five Kings.
The Three Stooges: Possibly, but I have big plans for the Iron Islands and it will take this story down the more unexplored fantasy element of ASOIAF. Much like how Martin's later books are incorporating more of the fantasy elements that had always been below the surface, as my story progresses it will do the same. The Iron Islands are a key role in that aspect.
Peregrine Prince: Yes, I know. The reason for that is due to the sheer size of the North, it's said to be so big it's comparable to the other eight combined. Now the reason I believe why he only ever raised 20,000 in the books is because due to the sheer size, hats the only sized army he could raise in such a short time. Any larger would mean taking more time and therefore, the Riverlands would have been destroyed and the Lannister's more prepared for them. At least, that's the reason I'm going for here.
TheOnlyKing: To be honest, Robb doesn't have the luxury to think about that right now. He needs soldiers and while he's not short on food, additional food and supplies from the Reach would be something he'd be a fool to pass up on. This isn't a world where Robb nor any character is really allowed to think like that. Not without severe consequences and ramifications.
0sef: Ned will play a role in the future, but this is a Robb story. However, Ned's escape has already had huge changes on the events. Mainly the fact that the Reach stopped supporting Renly and spent their time more wisely studying their options. Sometimes little things like that will change the way the future acts, like the butterfly effect.
